


Saving The Day Is Its Own Reward

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22851145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: That's what Garrison had said, often enough.  'Saving The Day Is Its Own Reward'. As far as the guys were concerned?  Maybe.  Maybe not.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Saving The Day Is Its Own Reward

Getting out of the vehicle, Garrison paused to give one last reminder of the orders they'd already heard twice over.

"Alright, let's get this over with, nice and easy. Remember, no ad-libbing, no talking out of school, no over-sharing and, hear me on this, Casino - NO yanking their chain. Chief, do NOT take a swing at whoever it is, no matter what they say. Actor, keep the lectures for later. Goniff - WHATEVER comes to your mind, just DON'T. That includes snitching anything that isn't already in your pockets! No nonsense of any kind. With any luck we'll be on the way home in another couple of hours," Garrison told them sternly, "so don't give anyone any excuse to drag it out. Or drag YOU out!"

Well, depending on who was doing the individual debriefings, his men DID have a tendency to react accordingly. 

Maybe not Chief so much; it took a lot to get him to interact enough for that, unless there was what he thought of as an unforgiveable insult being thrown down. If that happened, the response was going to be physical, not words, so hopefully he got someone reasonable this time.

There were a couple in the regular lineup who loved to hear all the blood-and-guts details, and Casino sometimes took his time laying it all out for them. Other times, with one of the more prissy ones, the safecracker liked to layer in a few items that caused those disapproving faces to get even more so. 

Goniff? He could either go quiet, depending on how tired or how worried he was, or he could get real chatty, especially with someone he knew and was fairly comfortable with. Oh, he was always careful not to betray any secrets; any 'slip of the tongue' involved was always quite deliberate, well planned out, not that the listener would ever know that. No one could manage that totally clueless act better than their pickpocket, though Garrison knew that was the LAST word he'd ever use for the man. And snitching that last interviewer's shiny silver pen really HAD been pushing it!

Now Actor, he DID like the sound of his own voice, and if HE got started into lecture mode, he could really delay things. A time or two he'd gotten so involved in rhapsodizing about one thing or another that Garrison had had a couple of awkward questions to answer later. So that little warning applied to the team's second-in-command just as well as the others.

"Alright, let's go."

It was supposed to be a debriefing, one last thing to be gotten through before they could go back to Brandonshire and collapse. 

Well, it was, of course, but then it turned into something else. Luckily it was only Garrison in the room at the time; at least his reaction, if not pleasant, didn't involve yelling or prolonged cursing or slamming a fist into the wall. Richards was pretty sure the reaction from Garrison's team would have included all of that if not more. And, to be honest, he couldn't have blamed them, not when he was turning them around and sending them right back out again, no down time at all.

"So they tapped an amateur in mid-stream, it went to hell," Garrison said in weary disgust, "and now they want us to pull their chestnuts out of the fire. We're supposed to 'save the day'. Major, we just DID that, different country, different story, but still . . . Isn't it someone else's turn this time?"

The lieutenant looked like he'd been pulled through a knot-hole backwards and the experience hadn't added anything to his sunny disposition, obviously.

Major Kevin Richards nodded in sympathy. Not how he would have worded it, perhaps, but accurate. And he could understand Garrison's frustration; the lieutenant and his team had just gotten back from a mission, hadn't even had the opportunity to get back to the Mansion before this new one bubbled to the surface. 

If Richards had anyone else available, he'd have sent the weary men back to their base of operations to get some well-earned rest, but there simply WAS no one else, and time was of the essence. At any time, Dunn and that codebook could be transported to Berlin and there would be no chance at all at mitigating the damage. After all, that new code book, or a copy thereof, was now in the hands of any number of Underground units. They would ALL be at the mercy of the German forces, not that there was any mercy there to begin with. And as for Major Dunn, well, as mildly-annoying as Richards found the man to be, one really didn't wish him in the hands of the enemy.

He went on to explain more of what was involved.

"Not that they had much choice, of course. Prescott developed appendicitis just as he was ready to leave Belgium. Well, I supposed he actually developed it earlier, but it brought him to his knees in the train station at Antwerp. He had just picked up the codebook from the Armée Secrète contact. Prescott spotted, recognized Major Dunn, who'd been sent to deliver a parcel to the Groupe G, was on his way out of the country, and dragooned him into delivering the codebook to the Underground leader near Cologne. They swapped tickets, Prescott got back here in time to end up having an emergency appendectomy minutes before it burst on him. Dunn headed for Cologne to deliver the codebook to the Underground. It should have been fairly routine. 

"We're still not sure what went wrong, precisely, but now both Major Dunn AND the codebook appear to be in the hands of the Germans. Both are said to be at the local headquarters in Cologne, a private house commandeered by the Germans for their own use. We need the codebook in the hands of the local Underground, preferably before the Germans figure it out and start using it against us. We have our team working on a fake to be left in its place. That wasn't part of the original plan, of course, but it DOES seem a perfect opportunity to sow some confusion, which I'll gladly admit does seem to be your and your team's forte. 

He paused, pouring Garrison a splash from the whiskey bottle he kept in the bottom of his desk. 

"We would also prefer to have Major Dunn safely back at his desk. It would be a shame to leave him in the enemy's hands, even if he did rather botch the whole thing dreadfully. Probably not really his fault; it was probably a mistake to send him to Belgium in the first place, even as a messenger. I am under the impression that he is just not cut out for field work. Unfortunately there was no one else available. Rather like the situation now, Lieutenant; we are so blasted short-handed, at least where people who know what the bloody hell they are doing is concerned!"

Richards had tried not to be too harsh in his judgement of his fellow major; after all, he'd managed to come a cropper on more than one assignment himself and knew things just happened sometimes. But he'd also met Major Dunn on several occasions, and hadn't been overly impressed. In fact, he'd questioned sending the man to Belgium in the first place, but they WERE running shorthanded, and their choices had been limited and the need urgent.

Garrison ran a weary hand through his hair and sighed. 

"All right, Major. We'll go try to save the day, one more time. I tell you, though, I'm going to owe my men big time for this. Yeah, I keep telling them that saving the day is its own reward, but I don't think they believe me anymore. Hell, I'm not sure I believe me anymore.

"I'll go break the news. Any chance for coffee and some food, maybe a shower and clean clothes before we head back to the docks?"

Tossing the drink back, reaching out his hand for the bottle which Richards silently handed over, Lieutenant Craig Garrison headed back to the adjoining office where his men were sprawled on the various pieces of furniture. Looking at them, seeing the need for rest, relief, clinging to them, he shook his head with regret.

"Okay, guys. Listen up. We've got a job," and the groans and protests filled the air as he filled them in on the details.

"Hey, Warden. You think maybe we're the only ones fighting this war today?" Casino asked as he took a swig from the whiskey bottle.

"W'at, Casino - you tired of 'saving the day' already??! Maybe getting a little bored with the whole notion?" Goniff asked sarcastically, reaching for one of the sandwiches an aide had just delivered, along with a pot of hot almost-coffee.

"Don't mind saving the day once in a while, but shit, man! If it's like the Warden here says, 'saving the day is its own reward', don't you think it's kinda unfair for us to keep grabbing all the glory? Seems it would only be right for us to share it around some!"

Chief poured coffee for each of them. "He's got a point, Warden. Seems selfish of us; gotta expect sooner or later the rest of the guys around here are gonna get ticked off."

Actor gave a quick snort of amusement. "Yes, that is exactly the sort of problem I can see us experiencing, jealousy for our 'stealing' all the 'glory'."

And of course Goniff had to finish the conversation with his quick toss of the head, his haughty retort, bringing wry laughter to other four men in the room. 

"Well, I think we just ruddy well ought to stop it! After all, Warden, you keep telling us it's not nice to steal. So, let's just stop! No more stealing all the ruddy glory - w'atever the 'ell THAT is! Better we just 'ead back 'ome and sleep for a week!"

Unfortunately, that was not to be, and after a quick shower and change into the clothes Major Richards had managed to scrounge for them, they were back and gone, once again to 'save the day'. 

Having a scrawny blond man appear, tapping at his bedroom window, had been a shock for the captive Major Michael Dunn. The quick picking of the lock, the outswung grill and a silently raised window had been accompanied by an inappropriately cheery Cockney voice, a hearty, if only whispered, "w'at's up, mate? You ready for an evening stroll?" had been even more of one. 

That was followed by a brisk "don't suppose you 'ave that ruddy codebook in your back pocket, do you?"

Dunn mutely shook his head, still bewildered at this change of events.

"Oh, well. Would make things a 'ell of a lot easier if you did, but guess we can't be that lucky. Well, come along now. Get your shoes on and let's get out of 'ere before that guard gets wise. The lieutenant's waiting!"

A perilous trip down the grillwork on the outside of the house, aided by a shove here and there by the impatient man urging him on, and finally he was back on terra firma. Back on solid ground and hastened away to find he was now in the company of that outlandish group of men that called themselves 'Garrison's Gorillas'. He'd heard about them, but never met them, and frankly, he wasn't finding it a pleasant experience now.

Major Dunn just couldn't believe all that had happened, all that was STILL happening. The whole thing was quite unbelievable, all the way back to being chosen to deliver that message and then, safely on his way back home, being pulled into something even more dangerous. 

It had all been something far outside his usual experience - his initial venture into what was called 'the field', acting as messenger, then as courier for that new code book, his subsequent capture and detention, the rescue by Lieutenant Garrison and his men. 

It had been uncomfortable, admitting that the Germans had the code book, had captured him before he could hand it off. It seems they already knew that, though, the local Underground having relayed that bit of embarrassing news along with the news of his capture. 

This last part, though, finding that, instead of heading out on the double, the men actually intended to retrieve that code book from the safe where it now rested, replace it with another, that was the final straw. He had put his foot down, vetoing that bit of folly, only to be shocked at his orders being ignored.

Yes, after some consideration, he could see the need for retrieving it, but thought it something best left to the Underground. Surely it was better for everyone if Garrison focused on getting HIM back to London! After all, his being tapped for the original couriering of that blasted book had been more happenstance than anything else - he was simply in the right place at the right time, if you wanted to call it that.

Still, since Garrison was so determined, not just to retrieve the code book, but to retrieve it and replace it with a fake, since it appeared that was the order from HQ, Major Dunn reluctantly gave way and started to think about how that might be done.

Well, who better? He'd seen the layout at the house, after all, having been an 'honored guest' there for several days. Now that he was free again, after he reluctantly accepted the necessity, he quickly decided how best to handle the job of retrieving the codebook, and just as quickly laid it out for Garrison. 

"They change shifts at 6; the men start getting tired, slack off a bit, about an hour before. Two of your men go in the back, making enough noise to distract them, draw them in that direction, engage them. The rest of us go in through the front; they'll not be expecting an attack from that direction, and we'll have them in a crossfire. We take the real codebook, leave the other somewhere, as if we'd dropped it on the way out, what with all the confusion and all."

It seemed quite sensible, quite clear to him. Oh, there were still the few guards upstairs that would have to be dealt with, and the safe would surely be closed, but that shouldn't be much of a problem. A bullet or two through the locking mechanism should see to it quite nicely, not that he'd ever tried such, but it only made sense.

Did he get a quick 'yes, sir' like he should have? NO! 

Lieutenant Craig Garrison had just given a brisk shake of his head, and told him impatiently, "no, that won't work, Major, none of it. A direct attack from either direction will just get someone killed and not get the job done anyway. And you DO understand us getting them in a crossfire means we are essentially firing our weapons in each other's direction in a tightly-enclosed area? Ending up dead by friendly fire is still ending up dead. And no one's going to believe we just 'dropped' the codebook on the way out and didn't notice! Not when it would be obvious that's what we'd come for in the first place.

"Listen up, guys. Goniff, we'll need uniforms - me, Actor, officers, something pretty high up there if possible, higher the better, something flashy; I want to have every eye on us when we walk in there. Rank and file for you three, but crisp, something befitting our 'personal staff'. Casino, Chief - transportation, something nice and impressive, room for all of us in one vehicle."

Then the insubordinate man laid out the most outlandish plan Dunn had ever heard, one far too brazen to ever work. When he'd protested, reminded the young lieutenant of who outranked who, tried to get the men to fall in with his far more suitable plan, the men had simply ignored him. And not only had Garrison refused his direct orders, he'd actually threatened to gag him instead of just tying his hands, as he'd already indicated was in the plan.

Now, the insubordination from Lieutenant Garrison was perhaps, to his mind, the most unbelievable part of this whole mad affair. A junior officer just didn't question a superior's orders, certainly didn't threaten that superior officer with bodily harm!

"Are you insane??!" Major Dunn heard himself, though he'd never really intended to voice that out loud. And out loud it had certainly been. The man actually expected him to go in as a prisoner, hands bound, helpless? No, thank you very much! He'd already BEEN in that position, and while he had been reasonably well-treated during the wait for the officer-in-charge to return from Berlin, he had no hopes of that continuing, especially after his first escape. 

The answer was, in sharp contrast, in calm, measured tones.

"Insane? Technically, no. Stubborn, certainly. Obsessed, perhaps."

There were snickers and low cat calls from his team in response to that, to which Garrison gave a wry grin and acknowledged, "okay, even probably. But you have to realize, you are now just going out of your way to piss me off, Major, and it's not the best time for that. We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it, my way. You may have higher rank, but in this, I'm the one with the experience, I'm the one the job was handed to. Remember, you're the one who let that codebook fall into enemy hands and got yourself captured. You're going to go along, do as I tell you, either the easy way or something a little harder. THAT is your only choice here."

No, this was not the Garrison who'd arrived in London, but it was Garrison as he was now. While he'd felt sympathy for the major earlier, knowing what had happened could have happened to him or any of his men under the right (or maybe 'wrong') circumstances, that I'm-in-charge attitude was really annoying. Not to mention the man being willing to just give up and head back with the job half done, that codebook still in German hands, ignoring the opportunity to not only retrieve it but to leave a damaging fake in its place. Then, once he was convinced the job HAD to be completed, coming up with that half-baked scheme, obviously brushing aside the likely consequences to the team as being acceptable collateral damage.

Goniff grinned in pure appreciation. There was nothing like watching some yahoo, officer or not, tangling with Garrison, trying to push him around and finding out it wasn't going to work, to get his juices going. Well, yeah, there were other ways, sure, but still, this was as amusing as hell, and he took his amusement where he could find it these days, as they all did. A fast look around showed him the others were getting a bit of a giggle out of the situation too.

As far as Lieutenant Craig Garrison was concerned, he wasn't finding any of this amusing. He was trying to get a job done, and he didn't have the time or energy to waste on a diplomatic response to the stream of vituperation that was flowing his way. 

In fact, Major Dunn shuddered at that hard, promising look the lowly lieutenant was now giving him, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that Craig Garrison wasn't exactly a Boy Scout, no matter how some he'd talked to up at HQ had described the man in that slightly contemptuous manner. 

No, no Boy Scout would have cause Dunn's blood to run quite that cold, his flesh cringe quite to that extent. He was suddenly far too aware that they weren't in HQ, that fortress of security. He didn't have dozens of allies just down the hall, MP's at his beck and call. They were in the middle of nowhere - just him, this stubborn, defiant man, and his unruly, untrustworthy, and thoroughly uncivilized companions. Perhaps this wasn't the time or the place to be taking Lieutenant Garrison to task; perhaps it would be better to wait and address the issue when they all returned to London. 

IF they returned, considering the utterly ridiculous plan about to be put into motion. His way, they'd stood some chance of getting the job done, though probably having to sacrifice at least two of the men in the process, the two going in through the back door almost certainly. Still, casualties were just a factor of war; surely Garrison realized that! But, apparently not.

The others sat listening to the low-voiced tirade, the accusations, the threats, the crisp but controlled response being given, and exchanged a smile. It truly was amazing how Garrison had changed over the time they'd known him. Though sometimes they wondered if it was a true CHANGE, or if he just finally let himself be himself, stopped hiding away all that he was, had the potential for being. Whichever, they were firmly in favor of the transformation. 

Actor stayed with Garrison and Dunn, Goniff, Chief and Casino headed out on their appointed tasks. It didn't take too long before they were back, success written on their faces.

The uniforms Goniff had procured from that cleaner's shop were impressive, no one could deny, especially the two officers' uniforms, them coming complete with a wide assortment of medals.

"Amazing the variety, quite impressive, I must say. I have to wonder how these two managed to acquire so many; they must have been quite active and quite well-traveled," Actor remarked, running an appreciative finger over the colorful assortment. "I wonder if they belong to anyone we've heard of. Some of these are for engagements geographically quite distant from each other, and over an extremely wide span of time," and he started listing those locations, the engagements, the dates involved and much more that they had little or no interest in. Well, of course he did; this WAS Actor, after all, any excuse for a lecture just made his day.

"In fact . . ." his voice trailed off. Actor had just realized a few of those medals and ribbons would have called for the recipient to have been in at least two totally different locations at the very same time, and slowly turned to give a puzzled look at Garrison.

Garrison, in turn, gave a knowing look at his smug little pickpocket now dressed in a non-com's uniform. It was a little ironic that it fit him quite well, certainly better than anything he was provided by their own military. 

"How many uniforms did you rob in order to come up with that little assortment, Goniff?"

Actor blinked, pausing in the process of donning his new attire, realizing his uniform actually tugged a little out of shape from the weight of all those medals and bars, and then gave the Englishman a reproving look. 

"Did you not think this might be, ah, what's the term, 'overkill'? The quantity comes close to ruining the line of the jacket, after all."

Casino snorted in amusement. "After that fit you threw last time, Beautiful, when he couldn't come up with anything in your size that had enough rank and splash to match your ego, guess he decided to go for broke this time. Figure you outta be thanking him, not complaining. Looks like he did you up right this time."

Goniff grinned and arched one brow that now matched the slyly satisfied look he gave them all.

"That's right, Casino, just trying to please the man, that's all. Sides, though there was another of 'igher-rank, that bloke must be built like a ruddy rhinoceros! That there uniform was the only one w'at would fit 'im to suit 'is sense of style. And w'ile it might 'ave been a pretty 'igh-up-there officer's togs, it didn't 'ave ANY of those pretty little bits added on. So, I fancied it up a bit. Did the same for the lieutenant, just to keep it fair and all. Not as much for the lieutenant, acourse; didn't want to tip 'im over or anything like that. After all, 'e don't 'ave the 'eavy ego to 'elp balance all that extra weight, not like Actor 'ere."

That got a laugh from everyone except Actor. Well, of course, and Major Dunn.

Dunn thought the whole thing ludicrous, the plan, the uniforms, the debate over the medals, of all things! This was not going to end well, not in his opinion. A bunch of clowns, that's what they were, the whole lot of them! And he was supposed to just let them tie him up and head back into that lions' den??!

Arguments failed to change Garrison's mind, and in the end there WAS a gag firmly in place over the indignant major's mouth. 

"We will pay for that later, I am quite sure," Actor admitted, "but he is just as likely to give the whole game away out of sheer stupidity. He is possibly even angry enough to do it out of spite, even though that would hardly work in his benefit, since he would end up in the middle of a gun battle and perhaps back in German hands."

Chief looked at the trussed and gagged man, still struggling to scrape the gag away so he could continue his tirade. Stroking his blade thoughtfully along his jaw, he offered a solution.

"Could probably get their attention, get the same reaction, if we hauled in a dead body instead of a live one, Lieutenant," he offered, not a trace of amusement in his eyes. Whether he truly meant that as an alternative, at least Dunn took him seriously, the others maybe not so much. But they had to admit, it was a convincing effort.

Still, Casino decided since the point was well-made, maybe it could even use a little heft behind it to get Dunn to a better level of understanding and cooperation.

"Naw, probably better not, Indian; too messy, and HQ would probably bitch up a storm. Still, nothing says he has to go in under his own steam, now is there, Lieutenant? I could give him a good wallop across the back of the head; he'd be out like a light, no prob," he offered. "Drag him in by his collar, really make an entrance."

Garrison fought that smile that was fighting to come out; after all, it was a shame to dilute the salutory effect those suggestions were having on a now-quiet and wide-eyed Major Dunn.

"Thanks, guys, but I think the major is going to cooperate, am I right, Major?" he asked, getting a rapid nod in response.

And it worked. They sauntered in, majestic in their crisp uniforms, medals gleaming, haughty attitude firmly in place, capturing the immediate respectful attention of everyone in the place.

"You appear to have misplaced something, I think?" Garrison asked in a lazy tone, motioning for Casino to push the bound and gagged Major Dunn forward. 

The reaction was quick, the former prisoner being surrounded by four men with their revolvers pointed firmly at him. A junior officer hurried down the stairs, stammering his thanks, his apologies, whatever came to his mind. He'd been more than concerned about what his commanding officer would say when he returned to find the promised prisoner long gone. Now he realized he should perhaps hold his immediate concern for how these two far-higher-placed officers intended to respond to that unfortunate escape.

Luckily, the two officers seemed to be in a good frame of mind, laughing and joking and finding the situation somewhat amusing. The German officer was on the verge of ordering the prisoner returned to his former abode, but a languid motion, an upraised hand from the more-highly-decorated officer stopped him.

"I think not, not until I have some reassurance he will remain with you for longer than it appears he did before. No, I will have my men survey this place; they are quite expert at such things. UNaccompanied, if you please. After all, it was your soldiers who allowed the first escape; I doubt they would be able to provide anything but distraction to my own men's efforts. In the meantime, you perhaps have something to drink? Schnapps, wine? Something actually drinkable? That is what we were doing when we spotted that man, you know, enjoying a quiet drink. I am quite sure your commanding officer would think that only fair to repay us for our efforts. You will join us, of course. We ARE fellow soldiers in the service of the Fatherland, are we not?"

Soon Actor and Garrison were seated, enjoying what was a rather tolerable grade of schnapps, the officer temporarily in charge hovering eagerly to refill their glasses when needed. 

Major Dunn was glowering from a chair in the far corner; no one had bothered to untie him or remove his gag, but from the sullen looks of the soldiers put to watching him, his escape had not gone down well, and they were considering how to make him pay for that, once the officers departed. 

A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead, and into his eyes. As much as he was furious for being put in this position, having to put his entire hope of survival on Garrison and his gang of misfits, he could only pray for their success. The next few minutes would tell.

Soon the three men returned, and the short blond one sneered and shook his head disapprovingly. He hadn't had to say a word for everyone to know just how unsatisfactory that inspection had been.

The more refined blond officer sighed heavily and rose, setting his glass on the desk beside him.

"It would appear Dieter does not hold much hope for your prisoner remaining your prisoner for long. Well, he must remain SOMEONE'S prisoner, and it appears we are elected to become his guardians for the time being. It is clearly our duty to the Fuhrer. We are staying at the hotel, of course. We will be there for some days. When your commander returns, which I understand he is to do very shortly, you and he may retrieve your so-disruptive prisoner."

There obviously was no sense in arguing, not that the young officer had any intentions. Better to have someone else take the responsibility; a first escape might be forgiven since the man was back in custody, but a second, especially by the same prisoner, would ensure a rapid reduction in rank and a probably transfer to someplace very, very cold.

Once that door swung shut and that staff car drove away, he poured out the rest of the schnapps, one glass for himself, the rest for his men. His superior would never know the visitors hadn't finished the whole bottle, after all.

In the staff car, once they were a couple of blocks away, Garrison removed Dunn's ties and gag, but otherwise ignored him, turning to the three men now chuckling to themselves.

"You made the switch?" he asked, though there was little doubt in his mind, not with their relaxed and self-congratulatory manner. If anything had gone wrong, they'd not be this pleased with themselves.

Casino snorted. "Hell, yeah, Warden. Safe was a crackerbox; no problem. Doing alright for himself, too, looks like. Lots a cash piled up, like he's saving up to take a real nice vacation." 

Garrison gave him a stern glare. "And all that cash is still THERE, right, Casino? The idea is for no one to know that safe was ever opened."

"Yeah, yeah, it's all still there, Warden. I was a good boy. Don't sweat it," Casino drawled, an easy smile on his face. 

It had been a temptation, sure, maybe slipping out a few bills to tuck in his pocket, but he knew the score. Besides, he knew Chief and Goniff had done a little shopping on the side, stuff more out in the open where anything going missing wouldn't make anyone suspicious about that code book now tucked away in that safe. Their retirement fund would have some serious additions even with him leaving the cash alone. 

In Chief's case, his spoils included a very well-made, VERY expensive Swiss watch, an early Patek Philippe, gold band and case, set with diamonds, along with a well-balanced antique Italian stiletto with a carved horn handle that slid into his hand like it had been made for him. For the right collector, the knife would probably have brought more than the watch even.

Goniff in particular had been busy; he was carefully NOT touching his pockets or the front of his uniform, but he was well pleased at what now rested there. 

{"Right nice taste 'e 'as, whoever the bloke is w'at picked that stuff out. Course, maybe it was from whoever they kicked out to take over the place. Still, best it be with someone who really appreciates it, not those twisters,"} he told himself complacently.

And he DID appreciate it, all of it, even if it wasn't destined to remain in his possession for very long. This was all intended for their joint 'retirement fund', none of the pieces pulling at him enough for him to trade off to keep any of them for himself like he, like each of them, sometimes did. Still, it all gave him considerable pleasure in his temporary ownership, and that was enough for him, at least this trip out.

Thinking back over his haul, he chuckled to himself. That wide gold ring with the heavy square cut emerald, obviously meant for a man's hand, wasn't even the nicest of the lot! That honor just had to go to that pair of gold and ruby drop earrings, though he didn't usually fancy rubies all that much as a rule. 

{"Must've 'ad a neck like a giraffe to keep them from resting on 'er shoulders, as long as they are. Ruddy 'ell, must've 'ad ears like an elephant's, too, to 'andle all that weight!"} and that amused grin on his face was a result of him picturing the decidedly-misshappen woman he was imagining wearing those earrings.

He'd hesitated over that black velvet case containing that whole set of fancy pieces, what Actor would have called a full parure. It HAD been tempting - necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, hair combs, pins, even a tiara!

{"Flemish, Seventeenth century, would be my guess. Coo, that was a nice lot! Case was too big to manage easily, though, without being spotted, and the pieces clipped in too tight to wiggle out in a 'urry to just tuck away."}. 

He'd hated to leave all that behind, but he comforted himself with the Flemish demi-parure of a similar period that had been easier to manage, just being laid out in the case, not clipped down. Easily swept up in one hand and tucked inside his shirt, tight and cozy against his skin. Just five pieces, not the full dozen of the bigger set, but still, very very nice. Besides, he liked the sparklie green emeralds of the smaller set better than the yellow diamonds from the first. They seemed to be warm as they rested against his skin, like they were happy he'd rescued them from such unappreciative hands. {"A 'ell of a lot more grateful for being rescued than that Major Dunn, that's for certain!"}

It all started up again once they reached the exit point, Major Dunn clearly unable to be satisfied with the successful completion of the mission. 

And it was a success, all of it. His own rescue. Codebooks exchanged, real one retrieved and now in the hands of the Underground, the clever and oh-so-misleading one now in its place, no one the wiser, no one with even a scratch, not even Garrison for a change, and still the major was throwing a hissy fit. 

The team gave him a disgusted look, but initially left the managing to Garrison, who, other than a hard "keep it down, Major, unless you want to bring a patrol down around our ears!", was pretty much ignoring the man in favor of watching for the truck that would be taking them out of there and to their transport home. 

Dunn DID settle down eventually, but whether it was that harsh warning from Garrison after his next outburst, or that equally harsh look from a knuckle-cracking and intently staring Casino, or the appearance of that sharp blade in Chief's hand, Actor wasn't sure. 

{"Perhaps a combination of all three?"}. He didn't much care, as long as the man shut up. Dunn was tiresome, to say the least, and his current attitude promised nothing but trouble once they returned home. Well, they'd deal with that then; for now, he just focused on the blessed peace and quiet that now prevailed.

On the sub, the commander pulled Garrison aside. "Lieutenant, you need to know he's talking about filing a complaint. He already approached me about throwing your men, at least, into the brig, and placing you under arrest."

Garrison snorted in disgust, "we pull him out of the hands of the Germans, save his life, and he's going to file a complaint! Figures! Sometimes, Commander, I just have to wonder!"

Commander Jamieson nodded sympathetically; well, he'd know Garrison for some time now, had a pretty good idea of the lay of the land, so to speak. 

"Yes, I can only imagine, Lieutenant. I think when we get back, I'll delay him for a bit. Let you get back and check in, lay out your side of things before he has a chance to muddy the waters."

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it," and he did. Not many were so quick to come down on Garrison's side, and the show of support improved his mood slightly.

And so it was, Garrison and the crew doing their debriefing and already gone by the time Major Dunn arrived to pitch a royal hissy fit in the office of Major Kevin Richards. 

Richards, for his part, was ready to throw a hissy of his own, but in a much more dignified manner. Frankly, he was more than a little disgusted with the man and the whole situation. 

Actually, he was more than a little surprised that the whiny fool had come through the whole thing with no more than a few bruises. If he'd been the one interacting with him, he wasn't sure he'd have been that forebearing, though it appeared the bruises were from the Germans, not from Garrison or his men, amazingly.

"Yes, Major Dunn, I quite understand your viewpoint. However, I must point out that we are talking about apples and oranges, as the saying goes. I agree you outrank Lieutenant Garrison, and in most situations that would put you in a command position. That is not the point in question. However, this was not 'most' situations, now was it?

"You were given one simple job to do. You accomplished that. You were co-opted for another job, one which, perhaps through no fault of your own, you did not accomplish. In fact, both you and the vital information you were carrying ended up in enemy hands, putting not only your own life, but the lives of every Underground unit who was using that new code at risk.

"To rectify that unfortunate situation, I assigned Lieutenant Garrison and his men to accomplish as many as possible of the desired goals," ticking them off on the fingers of one extended hand, "retrieval of the code book, substitution of the false code book in its place without the Germans becoming aware even of the possibility, placing the proper code book in the hands of the Underground, and incidentally, retrieving you. 

"Understand, Major Dunn, at that point YOU no longer had a job for which to BE in control. Lieutenant Garrison was the one with the appointed tasks, and he and only he had the command position. If he had to resort to threats to get you to acknowledge that, to follow his orders, well, that is rather to YOUR discredit, not his.

"Now, if your injured pride cannot allow you to assimilate all of that, so be it. However, Lieutenant Garrison pulled our chestnuts out of the fire, for which I am deeply grateful. He and his men also saved your life. I would think the faintest semblance of civilized behavior, of common courtesy alone would, if not cause you to give them your most hearty thanks, at least would cause you to refrain from uttering derogatory, unkind, and quite frankly, untrue things about them. Much less thinking to file any formal complaint against them! An action which, as the Handler for this mission I must inform you, I absolutely refuse to further or allow."

Later, discussing the mission, clearly Goniff found the whole thing annoying as hell, as he expressed over a drink and a game of cards with the guys once they got back.

"Think the bloke was out of 'is ruddy mind! Ungrateful, if you ask me! Got 'im outta that Kraut lockup, didn't we? Got the ruddy job done, didn't we, and after 'e'd screwed it up in the first place?? And then 'e's all pissed about the details of 'ow and everything?? Coo, 'im and them others, they don't know the 'alf of it, about this or any of the other jobs!"

He snickered then, low and with a smirk of appreciation, "though, nevermind the 'missions, imagine 'ow pissed they'd be if they'd caught on about that sweet little sidetrip we managed in Paris! Never mind Geneva! Or . . . "

Or any of a dozen, well, really far more than a dozen such little adventures!

Garrison was downstairs putting together the report, knowing Major Dunn was putting his own report together. He'd been assured by Kevin Richards that none of Dunn's complaints were being taken seriously, still he was trying to make his own report mesh enough and yet tell enough of the real story to keep the good major from being allowed out in the real world anytime soon. The man simply wasn't up to it! In fact, if Garrison had his way, the man would have been ousted from his desk and office and placed firmly in the 'obsolete records' section of the file room where he could do no damage.

Luckily, the general consensus at HQ, at least according to the grapevine, especially among the Special Ops and Special Forces crews and Handlers, seemed to be a bewildered questioning as to how a man could be rescued from a most unpleasant ending, the day - as it were - saved, and still be so ungrateful as to try and file a complaint against his rescuers. 

Garrison was rather bemused by that himself, though it wasn't his first experience with such. Well, there had been Colonel Pryor, sheer ingratitude personified, who always loomed large in their memories. With Pryor, Garrison had finally understood - some things, some attitudes, were just behind normal comprehension!

Still, the word from Major Richards was that HQ, in general, was on their side, and he'd received several congratulatory slaps on the back, some literal, some the verbal equivalent. 

The general impression, the opinion of his team seemed to have gone up a notch or two, so all in all he figured their saving the day had SOME benefits beyond the obvious. He'd take that and call himself satisfied. 

As for the guys, well, he figured they'd earned a night at the pub, his treat, especially with Casino resisting temptation and leaving that stack of ready money alone. Yeah, they'd earned a reward. He'd tell them later, after he finished the damned report. Heck, he'd even go along, have a drink or two himself!

Meanwhile, Goniff and Chief laid out the results of their shopping expedition on the Common Room table. That arrangement with the Brangle Street Lads was working very well; a fast brushing by at the wharf allowed for the safe transfer of any portables before they hit HQ, then the goods delivered to Mrs. Wilson in a sealed box waiting to be transferred up to the Mansion when the time was right. Hell, who knew Mrs. Wilson had been in the business, once upon a time??! It really WAS a small world!

The Swiss watch went into the 'retirement fund' pile, though Actor did look at it with some degree of longing. Well, it truly was elegant, what a gentleman of distinction would wear, provided he was also extremely wealthy. Still, he couldn't wear it in any open manner for now, so perhaps he wouldn't trade any of his own private stash for it. He had time to think about it, however, the conduit not coming to pick up any new additions before the end of the week.

As for the stiletto? The others agreed Chief should keep the stiletto for his own prize, noting the quiet longing in his dark eyes, the slight hesitation before he'd laid it in the middle of the table. If he was shocked at the unanimous offer, well, that wore off rapidly, though the sincere gratitude in his quick, shy, "thanks, guys. Appreciate it" was noted and understood. 

Well, as far as the other three were concerned, Chief had earned a special prize of his own. They'd each gone that route a time or two, with something that called to them, but not that much appealed to the young man and he'd never asked for anything before, so they were pleased he'd found something he valued at last. They certainly wouldn't begrudge him his treasure.

Goniff proudly pointed to the demi-parure he'd laid out, along with the ruby earings and the emerald-set ring, and explained with a knowing air, "must be almost a 'undred years old, from the looks. Probably Italian," casting just a slight glance over at Chief and a tiny jerk of his head toward Actor, who was lifting each piece to the light.

Actor's head snapped towards the pickpocket and he started to sputter indignantly.

"Italian??! Certainly not, Goniff! Flemish, there can be no doubt; the settings are quite indicative of that work. And it is far more than a hundred years old; I would think seventeenth century most likely. Sometimes I despair of you EVER becoming adequately educated on such matters!"

Chief's dark eyes now showed just a glimmer of amusement. Goniff had already told him earlier, "gonna see if I can get 'im going, Chiefy. Figure I tell 'im something really off about that set, that'll do it, don't you think? I mean, it's seventeenth century Flemish, no doubt about it, so 'ow about I go in claiming it to be something a lot more up to date, and French, or even Italian, maybe? Should do the trick, ei?"

Yeah, it'd worked alright, Actor now lecturing on the finer points of the five pieces, not even focusing yet on the earrings or the emerald ring, though they were all sure he'd get around to those sooner or later. Chief wondered if Goniff had some fancy misdirection he was waiting to spout off about those too.

Casino just sat back and watched, a wide contented grin on his face. Whatever the hell they wanted to call the stuff, it was probably worth a bundle, and should add to their retirement fund nicely. Still, there was something about that sly gleam in Goniff's blue eyes that told him Actor had just been had, big time. He could tell the Indian knew it too and was finding it funny as hell. Well, it kinda made everybody's day when that happened, even if all that lecturing did get a little old after awhile. 

{"Yeah, all in all, it coulda been a hell of a lot worse. Now, if we can just talk the Warden into a night at the pub, and if Josie is up for a little company, I'd say we're sitting in clover! What the hell, we pulled their bacon outta the fire; it's only right we get something outta the deal too! Nevermind all that 'saving the day is its own reward' crap. I mean, that's all well and good, but adding to the retirement fund, having a few drinks and a few laughs, maybe a good roll in the hay? That just sweetens the whole deal!"}

And it WAS a good night all around. 

Garrison was pleased with his men and with being able to give them a little reward other than a slap on the back. He'd sat back, enjoyed a couple of drinks before he left them on their own to go join Ben Miller at a different table for a little conversation.

Chief had a drink, played a game or two of darts, but kept thinking about that stiletto, enough so that a faint smile teased across his lips several times. 

Actor got on a roll about the very distinctive settings of Flemish jewelry, of all things (!), lecturing to anyone who would listen, even to anyone obviously trying to ignore the ever-flowing words. 

Goniff spent the time chatting up Josie, finding a cheerful acceptance to a little private time later, though he graciously suggested he wouldn't mind at all if she wanted to invite Casino along too. In fact, he strongly urged her to do so.

"Shame for 'im to be left sitting there w'en there's someplace nice and warm and friendly waiting. SomeONE nice and warm and friendly, too," he gave her a one-sided smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. Well, Josie agreed, that really WOULD be a shame!

Casino was a little miffed to find Goniff had pre-empted him with the agreeable bar maid. When Josie approached, laid out the revised plan for the evening, he was more than a little uneasy, and had tried to argue her into ditching Goniff and sticking with him. She hadn't gone along with his plan, so he'd ended up going along with hers, though he felt he could have done without the little Limey's presence just fine. Still, Josie had promised not to neglect either of them, and when she'd hinted he was maybe a little worrried about that damn fool 'showing him up'? Telling Casino "you shouldn't judge yourself so harshly, love, I certainly won't??" Hell, he just HAD to go for it.

Turns out Goniff ditched at the last minute, just at the cottage door, whispering something in Josie's ear, telling Casino with a huge grin , "you 'ave yourself a fine night, now, Casino," and then he was off and gone like a shot.

"What the hell?" Casino frowned after the rapidly retreating shadow. 

Josie giggled, "never mind, Casino. He just decided he had a taste for a little music instead," watching that faint figure heading for the outskirts of the village. 

She'd seen him perk up when Lou had mentioned the O'Donnell lass was back finally, and had really wondered when he approached her afterwards. He hadn't, not in quite awhile now, and now she figured it out. Goniff had just been teasing Casino, arranging for his team mate to spend a nice night with her, but making Casino think he'd have to share. Not that Josie minded the idea, the both of them, kind of liked it, in fact, but she'd seen that look on Casino's face when she'd whispered the invitation, temptation well mixed with panic, and then what was pure bravado, a refusal to turn away from what was probably meant as a dare. 

"I don't get it. What's that supposed to mean? Never mind. I figure he just realized he couldn't stand up to the competition. Shoulda known better in the first place," Casino preened.

Josie giggled once more. "Yes, I'm sure that has to be it. Come on then, Casino; the night's not getting any younger."

Casino found it just as enjoyable a night as he could have wanted. Yeah, so maybe he still was a little puzzled over Goniff's farewell comment to Josie, especially since the pickpocket didn't get back to the Mansion til just at rollcall. But he figured the man had probably curled up in a warm corner someplace, just to make Casino think he had had a more interesting night than he really had.

"So, yeah, maybe saving the day IS its own reward, but gotta say - it's a hell of a lot better when there's a little something else to sweeten the deal too," Casino had smugly declared at breakfast.

And he didn't get one solitary argument, not one.


End file.
